All language subtitles for Avenue.5.S02E07.720p.WEB.H264-GLHF - No HI

But now, instead of
a janky-ass sticky magnet,

imagine that
this is our spaceship.

Since when can the ship
split in half?

Also, why does it split in half?
Is it ease of cleaning?

Making it in two parts meant
that I could classify Avenue 5

as two half-mile vessels.

Made me
a substantial tax saving.

Jesus wept.

No, Jesus beat the shit out of
the tax collectors. Look it up.

Or have Iris
look it up for you, I guess.

So, if the ship splits,
the missile can only hit

one half, is that right?

No, no, no. No.
We're talking about genocide.

Again!

It's not genocide
if half of us survive.

All right, semi-cide then.

The missile is a real asshole.

It will go for
maximum devastation,

so probably the back half
where the engines are.

So, who decides
who goes in which half?

No.
It's not a dictator's job

to decide on a whim
who lives or dies.

It absolutely is, isn't it?

♪ "AVENUE 5"
THEME MUSIC PLAYING... ♪

Okay, here's how
the algorithm works.

So, the AI algorithm delivers
a rank for each passenger

based on their perceived value
to the ship.

Knock, knock. Hello?
Why was I summoned here?

Yeah, and why wasn't I summoned?

- Okay, so take Frank, right?
- Hey. That's me.

The algorithm has tracked Frank

from the moment that
he stepped on the ship

and laughed at the very idea
of the complimentary slippers.

They're basically free shoes.

Okay, so Frank produces
two pounds of solid waste,

four pints of urine every day.

He laughs on average
twice a week.

Ah, I laugh more than that.

You do a lot
of nervous laughter.

Exactly.

His testosterone levels
are normal

for a woman in her seventies.

He has a 51 percent
near-fatal embolism.

He has hairless feet, can't taste
pears, etcetera, etcetera. Okay.

And Frank's overall ranking
is 832.

Thank you, Frank.
You can go now.

What was that about an embolism?

Don't stress
about the embolism, Frank.

You'll give yourself
an embolism.

Every single J on this ship
is embedded with a camera.

It tracks, through our actions
and demeanor,

our positive contributions
to the ship.

It's my algorithm,
but I promise to keep it fair.

I love judging people.

So, we lure the lower-ranked
passengers to the back,

then we split the ship
in two and... mm, mm, mm.

A passenger pogrom.

There's gotta be a better way
of doing it than this.

Look, we've always given
machines the tasks

that we can't handle, right?
Defuse bombs,

reset bowling pins,
provide reliable orgasms.

This is another thing
that we should put

in the hands of a machine
because ours are too shaky.

Okay.

To use what is rapidly becoming
our popular catchphrase,

fuck it. Let us temporarily
suspend our humanity.

Great.

Passengers, today,
the ship's computer

will be ranking all of us.

And if you rank between one
and 3000,

you will be rewarded
with a first-class cabin.

Everyone else
will be well provided for,

so don't worry about that.

Keep on smiling
and you will win the day.

Well, at least half of you will.

Did my ranking just go up?

The algorithm rewards
cold-hearted decisions

- clinically made.
- So it's a psychopath?

Well, it has Judd in its coding.

Well, if the algorithm
is in charge,

I won't need the head warmer.

So, my followers all rank low
because they follow me.

So let's see how that's going.
Oh. They've unfollowed me.

That was fast.
You have to respect that.

Fickle little bitches.

How can my ranking be so low

when I am 3D printing an actual
human baby in my cooch?

We don't need
a bigger suite, though.

Babies are famously small.

Not in your family. You had
a head like a refrigerator.

Honey, like I told you,
it was a bad angle.

- In every single photo.
- Well, my love for you

is even bigger
than your freakish skull, Doug.

Wait. Were you saying that
'cause you meant it,

or were you trying
to get a ping?

Of course I meant it.

Okay. That smile
is freaking me out,

but I'm just gonna go with it.

How can I be bottom half?
Doesn't make sense.

I'm a good person. Fact.

Frank?
Why have I gone down?

Sorry,
I'm making bathroom.

Ryan compliments me
all the time.

He says he never met
anyone like me.

That's a known
British insult, honey.

- No, it's not.
- No, I think it is.

- Don't nervous laugh me, Frank.
- Sorry.

- I'm going out.
- I'm almost done.

Oh, wow, mi amor.

Wow.
"A Traditional British Eelhouse.

Eel-sy does it, Guvnor."

Why are we eating here?

The camera-to-customer ratio
is pretty high here.

And you lot could use
a bit of a lift.

Is the food all eels?

Is it all eels?

Eating eels is what won us
the Battle of Agincourt!

We thrashed Hitler's anus
with a brace of eels.

I don't like eels.

Oh, nobody like eels.
They're the celery of the sea.

But just relax and embrace
the authentic British smell

of abandoned phone boxes

and James Corden.

Hoity-ho
and scupper me bollocks!

Let me show you luverly,
luverly cunts

to your shit and stable.

That means table. This way.

I think the C-word is considered
affectionate in the UK, right?

Yes. Absolutely. Yeah.

Sometimes makes it into the wedding vows.

Here we are,
the old cock and balls.

We'll have, uh,
an "Eel-ivia Colman,"

an "Idris Eel-ba,"

and an "Eel-ementary,
My Dear Wats-eel"

for the tab-eel.

Excellent choices, man.

Why are you acting weird?

I thought the rankings
were just a bit of fun?

Yeah, yeah. It's just...
It's just fun, cor blimey!

Is that for your dreadful
cockney accent?

Or 'cause you're lying?

No.

It goes down when he lies.

Eel-ivia Colman.

We deboned it for you.

Means we took the bones out.

It looks like mashed up eyes.

Hold your nose.
Push on through.

Or what'll happen?

Nothing.

Just as long as they
don't force feed us.

Do we die?

Of course... not.

Okay. Ryan, you need to tell us
everything, right now.

Welcome, Ryan Clark.

Huh. Knew this software
would be cheap.

- Can you change your voice?
- No.

Can you change yours? See?
I have a humor chip.

Mm. Okay, so let momma see
what baby's been thinking.

Ryan's most used words.

Karen. Karen. Karen...

- Ryan!
- Hey, do you want

- to expand context of...
- Karen.

- ...words?
- Oh, yeah, baby.

I'm talking
about fucking Karen!

Honestly?

Being around Karen makes me feel

- like a teenager again.
- Oh.

And I was
deeply uncomfortable

as a teenager.
Borderline suicidal.

Christ, that woman
is like a verruca

- on my blinking anus!
- Well, that could be anyone.

I'm talking about Karen,
for fuck's sake.

Dull and draining.

Like a month
of fucking Wednesdays.

I'll tell you who can
fuck along nicely.

Karen Kelly.

Karen Kelly.
I bet if you say that

in the wrong pyramid,
your mouth fills with beetles.

You S-head.

Honestly, that woman
haunts me

- like a perfumed plague pit.
- Shut the fuck up!

You deserve it.

No,
but I wanna buy this for you.

I wanna buy it for you.

That's so cute.

I bet a beautiful couple
like you are ranking highly,

- am I right?
- Uh, no. She's my sister.

Oh, shame.

I mean, not a shame, a waste.

No. What I mean is,

I was gonna say
you would have lovely children,

but then, children of incest
are plain looking, aren't they?

Not that yours would be.

Yours would be lovely.

If you're planning to have them.

Shit.

Did you just tell them their
incest children would be plain?

Yes. Yes,
that's what just happened.

You know, Rav,
I think conversation

isn't your natural medium.

I think you'd do better
with a grand gesture.

Like, a "you go girl" moment.

Okay, yeah,
like 10,000 points for Rav.

Yes. Yes. As long as
you're not talking,

- I think you're... Oh!
- Oh.

After you.

Hurry up.

I'm sorry. Oh, shit.

You have five hours
of ranking left.

Five hours.

What are you doing?

You just have to smile
for the cameras. It's easy.

I know the intersection points
where I can hit multiple cameras

at once. It's efficient
and avoids cheek fatigue.

Uh, is it okay if I join you?

Absolutely not.

You know, I say
screw the rankings.

- I am not looking.
- Yeah.

I don't...

- Or maybe we should...
- Way ahead of you.

Four thousand
four hundred seventy-two.

Five thousand
three hundred and forty-seven.

I can't... I can't believe it.
I'm number two.

How...? Really?
Oh, I'm so pleased for you.

That makes me so happy.

Wait.
Who's number one?

Who the fuck is better than me?

She's a real number two,
all right.

Looks like the algorithm
likes your joke.

Does it find me attractive, too?
Maybe I could take it to dinner.

- You're on a roll.
- Yeah, I think I'm gonna

head up to the bar.

I don't believe this.
You told us

it was about where we live,
not whether we live.

I really did love you, Ryan.

Oh, my God. You actually did.

I did, too.

I did wonder.

You always seemed to be
two drinks short

of curling up in my laundry.

So, where do we go from here?

Uh, I don't know.

Okay, por dios.

I love you both equally,
but differently.

Well, this is a lot to take in.

What?

I... I didn't do anything.

Unless I'm being penalized
for existing.

See, this has just tipped over

into bullying.

I'm gonna have to sort this out.

Guys, you know,
I am getting so old.

You know, when I go to
the toilet, I don't take a book.

I take an encyclopedia.

Back in the game.

Now let me tell you
about my brother, Larry.

I don't wanna say
he's unhygienic, but my God,

the only time he washes
behind his ears

is when he's eating a slice
of watermelon.

You ever wonder why
the word "monosyllabic"

has five syllables?

Huh? Boy, that kind
of split the room.

Spike is gonna drop the mic
and I'll be back in five.

Thank you.

Uh, number one stuck
in your craw?

You know that old folk song,
"Simply the Best"?

That's my funeral song.
Not "Simply the Second Best."

You know why?
'Cause that's not a song!

Message. It's from number one.

"Meet me at Judd's statue."

How are we looking?

We're both trending
below cannibal.

What?

You have two hours
of ranking left. Two hours.

Oh, God. Oh, God,
this is it, Doug.

- No, I'll think of something.
- No, I think the baby's coming!

- It's too early.
- It's not checking into a hotel.

It's literally coming out
of my body right now!

Oh. All right. Towels! Do we need towels?

No, fuck towels!
I need drugs!

Women want to be unconscious!

Hey, my hat!

Fuck.

Fuck.

Judd's ranking advice.
Hi, how are ya?

I was told if I kept smiling,
I'd be fine,

um, but my ranking's lower
than snake shit.

I think it's because
whatever's happening

on your face right now
isn't a smile.

- It's more like a smirk.
- Oh.

I want you to watch me.
See this? See this?

You see? You see what
I'm doing right now?

That's a fucking
happy factory right there.

There's thousands of people
working up there

making nothing but joy.

- I'm smiling.
- No. You maybe have

- minor nerve damage or something?
- No.

I would maybe get your hands
on some Botox

and a disgraced surgeon.

Judd, your algorithm
inexplicably despises me.

See?

It's actually
a very simple system.

It's, um...

- How do you turn it on?
- Don't you use it?

No. I can't be in my own app

because then
it would achieve singularity.

- You just press that down there.
- Oh.

And let's just...

Fuck.

- Are you low?
- As if.

That is very cheering.

The German word
for what I'm feeling now

is "Schitting Fantastic he."

Okay, um, I could really use
your help right now.

Could you maybe tell me some
of your problems or whatever?

I'd be doing you a favor.

- So, I'm in love with a woman.
- Which is great.

- But she's married.
- Which is... bad?

Well, y... yeah. The marriage
is complicated. The thing is...

Okay, I'm gonna stop you
right there.

Is this a problem that I can
solve with either money

- or aggressive legal action?
- Uh, probably not.

Then this is not gonna
work for me.

I need points, Ryan.
I am desperate for points.

- I will pay for points.
- Christ. You're like

an upturned turtle, aren't you?

I'll take the hit on that.

Excellent.

Ooh, well done, you, sir.

You... you... Oh, fantastic!
Everyone's a winner.

No, soccer's the winner!

Help! Somebody help!

Oh, God, that man's choking!
He's choking! Somebody help him!

- Somebody help him!
- Rav, look at me.

Saving a life
is a rankings bonanza.

- Oh, God.
- Come on.

- I don't know what I'm doing! What am I gonna do? Help me!
- Give him the Heimlich!

- I don't know the Heimlich.
- I know the Heimlich.

- No, no. She's got it.
- Do I just pump him?

- Pump. Pump.
- I'm here to help you!

You're helping each other.

- I think you have to do it harder!
- It's not work...

He's bloody heavy!

She's saving him!
She's saving him.

Thanks.

Well, it's an easy mistake
to make.

You know, a heart attack
is often indistinguishable

from choking.

Hey. Hey, let me help you
with that.

No, thank you.

- Let me help you with your bag.
- No.

Please, please!

- No.
- Fuck.

Hey, Iris. How are you?

That's confidential information.

- Damn it.
- Everything okay, Iris?

The algorithm seems to have
figured out my smile hustle.

Is the algo evolving?

Well, if it is,
then we must evolve too.

Like how bears learned to dance.

Um, I would like you, Iris,
to be my friend

slash employee again.
My friend-ployee.

Did you say that for the rank?

No.

Yes. Yes. I said
the friend thing for the rank.

And then I said that I said it
for the rank for the rank, too.

Okay.

For this to happen,
you're gonna have to treat me

like a human being,
because I am.

You are like a human being.

I am a human being, damn it,
and I want respect.

I respect you so much.

Okay, I will do my best
to make the respect happen.

You also need
to drop all the lawsuits against me.

- Even the fun ones?
- Yes.

Okay. Okay.

Oh, man. I missed you, Iris.

I missed you, too.

You lying fuck.

Goddammit, Iris.

You're really fucking me here.

♪

Hello? Number one?

Oh.

So... oh.

The cream has risen.
We are the cream.

Be the cream.

What the fuck? You?

The best of us is Mads.

You are two. I is one.
We are three. Pronounced "free."

Oh.

Oh, I see. No, no, no,
it doesn't understand you.

You're just saying nonsense
confidently

and you have cheekbones.

Billie, don't over think it.
It's a very,

very number two thing to do.

Just accept that
I am the king of this ship

- and you are basically my...
- If you dare say queen,

I will gouge out your tongue
with my thumbs.

No. I was going to say
my jester.

Your jester?

Tongues are too slippery
to gouge, you silly jester.

Ugh, this is ridiculous.

Oh!

You are the stupidest computer
I've ever met.

I'm gonna turn you off
before you make me hate numbers.

I'm, uh, I'm actually bisexual.
I've had sex twice.

Spike slam.

You know, people say to me,
they say, "Gosh, was it scary,

walking on Mars?"
I say, "I don't know.

I had my eyes closed
the whole time."

You know, my, uh, fourth wife...

Fuck!

Okay, this... here...
There's nobody in here.

See,
that's not helping our rankings, honey.

Maybe you could just smile
through the pain?

I hope your ass splits

and a bus falls out!

I completely understand
your hatred, honey.

I hear screaming.

No, no, no.
I can't get involved.

God, we're so fucked.
Babe, can I hold... I need to...

What are you doing
with your hands?

Oh, my God, the baby's coming.
I've never seen a real birth.

I mean, aside from my own,

but that was a cesarian,
so I missed the money shot.

Sadly, I am a midwife only
to disaster.

What is this, cervix tourism?
Two tickets to see

a woman being split in half?

You mean like the ship?

The ship is being split in half?

Yeah, so the missile...

- Missile?
- What?

You know what?
If you push hard enough,

you could suffocate Matt
with a flying placenta.

Wait,
is that why you're ranking us?

No! No.

Right, stand back. Here I come.

Auntie Iris gonna
land this baby.

I'm not shitting out a shuttle!

Just smile, like me.

I can't get involved
because last time

I got involved
in a medical emergency,

a bald man died.

Be uninvolved
more quietly, please.

But doesn't she
need a doctor?

- Okay, baby. Smile!
- Push!

- Smile!
- Push!

Sound
happy. There are mics everywhere.

Just picture stroking
her squidgy little cheeks

- while she's sleeping.
- I can't! I can't!

Fucking picture it!

You have five minutes
of ranking left.

Five minutes.

I stepped back
and you all flourished.

- Isn't that interesting?
- If you said it, no.

♪ Oh, wow.

You're a mother, Mia.

And I'm a father.

Karen! Karen!

What are you doing?

I'm fruit effing
your rank.

You called me an anal verruca,
and it hurt.

- You mind taking that off?
- You said you hated me.

The algorithm
was fooled by that?

Look, I don't hate you.

Yeah, I do hate you.

But there are tons of people
I hate more than you.

Matt and Judd,
they're the top ten

all by themselves.

- Really?
- Yes. Look at you.

You're intelligent. Relentless.

Not relentless.
You're... you're consistent.

And you get things done.

Things that don't want
to be done.

It's actually
annoyingly brilliant.

♪

But I... I am sorry.

You know, we always hurt
the ones we love.

Yeah, that's not
where this is headed.

Hey. I'm your fruit monster.
I'm sorry.

Oh.

Points for Karen. Ah!

Can someone please explain to me
why she's shitting around

and getting rewarded for it?

What kind of
value system is that

and how may I exploit it?

No, it's rewarding
her apologizing.

The algorithm is learning
to love a teachable moment.

So, wait a minute. If I...

If I were to call Matt,
as I have many times,

a dead-eyed masturbating
parakeet,

and then apologize for it,
"I'm sorry, Matt,"

I get points for that?

No need to apologize.
I mean, I... I'm flattered

you think I have
the vibrancy of a parakeet

or the energy to feather
my cloaca to completion.

I'm gonna go prepare my nest
for impact.

Doesn't that mean everybody's
just gonna go full metal asshole

and then apologize
to each other right after?

Yeah?

Uh, I... I am so sorry, Spike.

That was an error in judgement.

Fuck you!

I'm so sorry I said that, Jaden.
I've grown so much since then.

You are indistinguishable
from my mother.

I can't believe I married you.

Not now, Frank.

See, I'm sorry. See?

I'm sorry. So sorry.

Sorry!

Another beautiful day
in the neighborhood.

- Sorry!
- Sorry, sorry.

I think we should shut
the ranking off

for the good of mankind.

Not because you're
in the bottom half?

No. No, 'cause actually,
because I just said

that nice thing about mankind,

I'm actually
in the safe zone again.

Okay. You still want
me to turn it off?

- Sorry!
- No. No.

Because, for whatever reason,

I don't feel very bothered
by it now.

Goddammit. Uh, yeah. Yeah.

I should shut it off.

Sorry!

I now believe your husband
may have been killed

by his own heart whilst I was
trying to save him from choking

on what turned out
to be nothing.

- Um, but never the, uh, less...
- Let me be sorry!

I... I just wanted to say,

he seemed like
the most wonderful,

bulky man. I am so sorry.

Oh, big upgrade!

Sorry!

Ranking complete.

Ranking complete.

Uh, this is just a reminder,

you only have a couple
of minutes left.

If you ranked between one
and 3000,

please head for the front
of the ship.

Everyone else, head to the back.

- Elena.
- Ryan?

I'm 3,942. What are...

What are you doing?

- Here.
- What is this?

- I love you, Elena.
- I love you.

Five thousand nine hundred
and sixty-three is...

Yeah, sorry, Charles.

Maybe I'll save you
in the next life.

- Mi amor.
- Be safe, my darling.

- Billie, you're joining us.
- But you're number two.

Yeah, but we're engineers, so...

we should be
with the engines, right?

You're right. Yeah.
Grease and math, my two pillars.

How did you do in the end?

Uh, it was good, but then bad.

Apparently,
my jokes are offensive.

I got complaints from bisexuals,

people who don't know the
meaning of the word "monosyllabic,"

folks who are allergic
to watermelon.

Looks like there's a dipes
to clean.

You know, after this one,

it gets all yellow and seedy.

- Okay, well, that's unpleasant.
- I'll deal with those ones.

Oh, I like Daddy Doug.

That's why we got
in the top half, baby.

- I'll get the wipes.
- Okay.

- Fifty seconds.
- Remember me.

Tell my story.

- Do not believe the accusers.
- Forty seconds.

I've wished him away
in the past,

but this is as sad
as a graveyard sunset.

At least he'll live on
through all this branding.

I'll give him three minutes.

Thirty seconds.

Make way for King Mads
of the front section.

Happy birthday to everyone
who has a birthday.

Hey, this is the back.
What are you doing here?

What are you doing here?

The algorithm peg you
as an engine jockey?

Yeah.

Slammed you
as an emotionally incontinent

walking bald patch?

- Exactly.
- Ten seconds.

Ready?

Let bisection commence
in three, two, one.

Wait!

There's a wall coming down!

Oh, babe,
I put them over here.

No, Doug! The doors! The doors!
Doug! Doug! Doug!

Buddy! Buddy!

There's a big-ass missile
locked onto this side!

Lock onto me
if you wanna live! Ah!

You can never thank me enough!

I'm a space Moses!

Listen,

there is indeed a missile
coming towards the ship,

and I have to tell you now
that it is most probably

aiming for the back of the ship.

Where we are.

Sixty seconds to division.

All the bodies
that Judd took over there

means more body heat
in the front,

so the missile probably
hits them now, right?

- Fifty seconds.
- Yeah, I think so. I mean,

it's programmed
for mass destruction.

It's a real mass-hole.

Right. I don't care
if the whole ship hears.

I love you, Elena.

- Forty seconds.
- I love you so much,

and it's an honor, truly,
to lay down my life

- for you and for...
- Ryan.

Sorry, just one second.

Thirty seconds.

Judd! You... gurning hemorrhoid.

You've just taken a giant
J-shaped shit on my sacrifice!

Twenty seconds.

Elena, I'm sorry

that this is the last thing
you're gonna hear me say.

Ten...

I mean, there were
some really lovely bits

for her to think about.

Five, four, three,

two, one.

- Doug! Doug!
- Mia?

Support the head!

Mia!

Buddy!

What's going on?

- Elena!
- Elena!

- Elena!
- Elena!